Flying fishing in Patagonia often conjures images of double hauling big flies into the ever-present wind and spending hours stripping heavy sinking line and streamers for monstrous brown trout. But there’s another side of fly fishing seldom experienced in Patagonia; primarily because it exists in only a few isolated locations: Spring Creek fishing. 

In addition to having private access to 15 kilometers of the famed Rio Chimehuin, Tipiliuke Lodge and the Estancia of Cerro de los Pinos also encompass what is perhaps the only privately accessed spring creek in Patagonia Argentina. For anglers who enjoy the more simple pleasures of casting light tackle, and strolling along the banks of a small stream working the riffles and grassy edges in absolute privacy, it’s a serene experience. This is also the perfect place for the less initiated to cultivate the art of casting; with no trees at your back, only open grasslands surrounding the pond and stream, it’s a much less stressful environment to fish. I spent an afternoon this past summer in total solitude, hunting my way around the headwater pool and casting to rising brown trout, many as large as 18 inches; and then walking my way downstream from pool to pool and drifting small dry flies until daylight gave way to a typical summer sunset. As with most Patagonian waters, this little spring creek is rich with life and healthy trout. Each pool presented me with at least one nice fish, and an exciting moment or two with a 3# weight Scott fly rod in my hands.  

I returned to Tipiliuke Lodge in April in pursuit of a photo-essay on Quail Hunting (coming soon!), and was lured by my friend Kevin Tiemersma to join him for an hour or two at the spring creek before lunch. Kevin is the Lodge Manager and a seasoned fly fishing guide; and as it turned out, has serious enthusiasm for light tackle fishing. As we approached the head-water pond, I asked Kevin about the food source and hatches this time of year; he just smiled and ran his foot through the knee-high grass in front of me, and caused an explosion of grasshoppers, “Saltamontes” in Spanish. I love fishing hoppers; but it seemed like a great opportunity to use the camera and try to capture some top-water action. Kevin was gracious enough to tie on a hopper imitation big enough for my Nikon to focus on from a distance, and we eased our way up to the water’s edge. Within seconds we were spotting rising fish and trying to decide which one to cast to. Kevin chose a nice rainbow trout near the reeds and dropped his fly out a few feet in front of it. The hopper landed like a butterfly with sore feet, barely raising a ripple in the surface of the water. The big rainbow immediately turned and began a stalk that can only be witnessed in a gin clear pond like this one, and we watched it rise up directly below the fly. To my good fortune, I was able to see it coming in my viewfinder, and started bursting the camera’s shutter just in time. One moment, the fly was sitting on a mirror of the blue sky, and the next, it was gone in a vacuum of downdraft. My camera was firing at 4 frames per second, and the magic was revealed in only two frames; the first shows the rainbow’s darkened silhouette skulking below, and a fraction of a second later, its gaping mouth sucking the fly and a bucket of water from the glassy surface. We had only been here for two minutes, and the spring creek had yielded a beautiful trout and spectacular photos!     (Roll your mouse over the image to see the take)

As the headwater pond becomes a stream, it winds through the grassy fields towards an eventual reunion with the Rio Chimehuin, with small rocky rapids dropping into pockets of slower water. Larger trout tend to keep their noses into the tail of the gurgling riffles, waiting for morsels to appear. Like all fast water fish, they strike with more reckless abandon rather than stalking like the calm-water dwellers. We threw a variety of dry flies, all being gratefully accepted by hungry rainbow and brown trout that seemed intent on fattening up before winter; and carefully released each back to the pool that it came from. 

As we made our way back upstream and past the headwater pool to the truck, Kevin spotted a rising brown at the far edge of his casting range and wanted “just one more” before lunch time. The brownie took the fly so fast that I couldn’t capture a gaping mouth this time, but I did manage to get him taking the fly under, and then the immediate reaction of Kevin’s hook set. It was a beautiful representative of the brown trout inhabiting the Spring Creek, and made run after run into the deep water and then to the shore looking for cover. Kevin played the fish perfectly on ultra-light tippet, held it for a brief photo, and then released it back into the depths of the headwater.   

Sometimes the finest moments in fly fishing aren’t measured in pounds or kilos, but rather in the richness of the memory. Spring Creek fishing at Tipiliuke lodge is all about relaxing, taking your time with every cast, and appreciating the unique beauty of this place. Whether you’re a seasoned fisherman looking for a brief respite from the big water action of the Chimehuin, or a novice seeking someplace less intimidating to practice, it’s a lot of fun. So when you plan your trip to Tipiliuke Lodge to fish private access stretches of the Rio Chimehuin, bring a light rod with you and tell Kevin you’d like to relax for an hour or two. 

Memo Stephens 

*Memo Stephens is an Adventure Photo-Journalist who resides in Argentina, and is available for journalism and photography assignments for both commercial and private parties. For more information, please email to: